Nothing Good
by muhnemma
Summary: A season six Buffy and Spike get thrown back in time to season two. More detailed summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I quite clearly don't own any of the characters from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer. _

**Summary: **Set during season six, but Buffy and Spike have an actual relationship rather than Buffy just using Spike. They get thrown back in time to season two and have no idea how to get back home.

**Pairing: **Buffy/Spike

* * *

Buffy and Spike strolled down the street, enjoying the stillness of the night after having fought and killed several vampires that had been stupid enough to try to ambush them. Spike had one arm slung casually over Buffy's shoulders and took the occasional drag of his cigarette. To a passer by, Buffy, who was leaning into Spike, might look relaxed, but she had one hand resting on the stake concealed within her thin jacket. 

For a moment Buffy slipped into the familiar game of trying to imagine how they might look to a casual observer, someone who had no idea that they were vampire and Slayer. Spike with his spray on black tee shirt and leather duster, and her with her tight black pants and the small scarf she wore on occasion to cover up the scar on her neck. A ridiculous thought occurred to her and she let out a small chuckle, causing Spike to look at her quizzically.

"Well, it's just that if I had a pink jacket and you had a more…" She paused, eyeing Spike's peroxide blonde hair. "Conventional hair colour, we could probably pass for extras in _Grease._"

Spike rolled his eyes but grinned back at her anyway, more than happy to join in with whatever joke put a smile on her usually sombre face. "Wouldn't know, pet. Never seen it."

"You've _never _seen it?" Buffy stopped in her tracks. "How is that even possible? You've been alive for so long! What the hell did you do in all that time?"

"Hey, I was a busy man until I got domesticated!" Spike puffed out his chest. "My diary was filled with cutting a bloody swathe across Europe and America."

"Even so," Buffy said, beginning to make her way down the street towards her home again. "You must have had some free time, and you can't tell me that you spent all of it listening to Drusilla's insane babbling."

"It could actually be entertaining sometimes. Alright, most of the time it was bloody annoying but every now and then it was good for a laugh."

"Whatever, we're remedying the situation soon."

Before Spike could argue, Buffy hurried up the garden path and began digging around in her pocket for her key. Finding it, she slid it into the lock and let herself inside. Spike followed close behind, frowning at the darkness inside the house. "Is nibblet home?"

"No, she's studying over at her friend's." She frowned slightly as she flicked on the light. "Or she's at her friend's house, anyway. I made sure of that. Can't say the same for the studying."

"So," Spike smiled wolfishly and slipped his arms around her waist. "We have the place all to ourselves?"

"Yes," Buffy said, giving him her sweetest smile. "So no one will laugh at you when you sing along with John Travolta."

Spike groaned and released his hold on Buffy, who gave him a quick peck on the cheek before heading to the kitchen. "You want something to eat?" She called over her shoulder.

"Please, pet. Make it hot." He flopped onto the sofa and turned on the TV, beginning to idly flick through the channels. He hoped fervently that Buffy would forget her promise to force him to watch _Grease. _Over the last few weeks he'd been made to sit through _Pretty in Pink, The Breakfast Club _and _Pretty Woman_, all under the threat of a sound staking if he interrupted too much, and he didn't think he could take another one of her favourite movies. That said, on one memorable evening he'd coerced her into watching _Titanic, _so he supposed he'd lost whatever right he had to complain.

In the kitchen, Buffy tore off the top of a packet of blood and tipped the cold liquid into a mug. She then placed it in the microwave to heat up and moved to the fridge, hoping to find something slightly more appetising for herself. On the way there, she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. On the table lay a small box wrapped in cream coloured paper and tied with a satin bow.

Confused, she hurried over to the table and carefully unwrapped the box, hoping that she wasn't ruining something of Dawn's. As she removed the lid her eyes widened. This clearly wasn't Dawn's, not unless she'd robbed a bank or won the lottery without telling her. Inside, lying on a bed of black velvet, was a necklace. The chain was silver and so dainty that Buffy was surprised that it could hold the enormous oval gem attached to it without snapping. At first, because of its deep blue colour, she took the gem to be a sapphire, but after she picked it up in her trembling fingers it shimmered and slowly turned purple. A few seconds after that it shimmered again and changed to scarlet.

"Spike!" She shouted. "Is this from you?"

"Is what from me?" He called back.

_Guess that's a no then. _Without answering him, Buffy turned her attention back to the necklace. Despite knowing that wearing mysterious trinkets that appeared in your house as if by magic never led to anything happy, her fingers itched to slip it around her neck. Even as she told herself not to, she lifted it up and began to pull it on over her head.

"Buffy!" Spike said loudly, hurrying into the kitchen. He'd come to see what was going on after she didn't answer him, and had found her in an almost trance like state. He didn't know what it was she held in her hands, what it was she was about to wrap around her delicate neck, but he could feel its power. "Buffy!" Spike almost shouted her name this time, but she didn't even look up at him.

He grabbed her by the shoulder just as the necklace fell into its proper place. As soon as it settled around her neck there was a loud crack, as if from a whip, and a wave of energy coursed through the room, shattering the glasses. Spike pulled Buffy into him and wrapped his arms around her, protecting her from the flying shards of glass.

The loud noise brought Buffy back to her senses, clearing the mistiness from her eyes that had been there only moments before. She looked up at Spike. "Spike," She muttered, her voice hoarse. "This is ba-" She broke off mid word as there was another loud crack and she and Spike disappeared, leaving the kitchen empty.


	2. Chapter 2

Spike landed with a loud _thud _on the ground. The fall knocked all the breath out of him which, even though he technically didn't need to breathe, still wasn't very pleasant. He lay face down on the solid earth and damp grass tickled his nose as he gulped in a lungful of cold air. Tentatively, he stretched out his arms and legs, trying to ascertain whether anything was broken. Satisfied that all he'd have to show for the experience were a few bruises, he pushed himself up onto his knees and took a first proper look at his surroundings.

_How original. _He thought to himself with a grim chuckle. The cemetery. Spike had to give credit to whoever had done this; kidnapping a Slayer using a magic necklace was a new one to him. But this lost them all their points for inventiveness. Why bother kidnapping a Slayer if you're only going to take her to the cemetery? They could have saved themselves the hassle by waiting for her to go on her nightly patrols.

He opened his mouth to ask Buffy if she was okay, but realised that she wasn't where he thought she was. When they'd been yanked out of the kitchen, he'd been clinging on to her in an almost bone crushing embrace. After he landed outside he just assumed that she'd be lying next to him. But the area all around him was empty save for a few gravestones, and now he came to think about it he realised he hadn't seen her since he'd forced her head into his chest to save her from the flying glass.

In an instant he was on his feet, his eyes probing the shadows. "Buffy!" He cried "Buffy! Slayer! Where are you?" He tried desperately to calm himself down enough to try to sense her heartbeat, but he was finding it near impossible. If she wasn't here, where was she? Images of Buffy being dragged into some kind of hell dimension while he was left behind, useless, in Sunnyhell flashed through his mind. "Buffy!" He screamed it this time, his demonic visage slipping into place.

A low groan came from behind one of the headstones. With an immense effort, he smoothed away the ridges that covered his forehead and retracted his fangs as he hurried to where the noise had come from. By the time he got there Buffy was already sitting up, pressing her hand gingerly to an already healing cut on her cheek. At the sound of Spike's approach she looked up and grinned weakly, her relief palpable.

Spike dropped to his knees at her side and slid his fingers underneath her chin, turning her face towards him. "You alright?" He asked as he examined her. He searched her eyes for any sign that the knock that had made the cut on the cheek had caused any other damage. Finding them as clear and lucid as ever, he moved from her face to the rest of her, running his hands lightly over her body to check for breakages.

"I'm fine. Just a little confused and oozy." She pointed to the cut. "How about you?"

"Confused. What happened?"

Buffy shook her head, her brow creasing slightly as she tried to remember everything. "I know as much as you."

"What was that thing?"

"Just a necklace. I knew I shouldn't put it on but I couldn't stop myself. Hey!" While she was speaking her hand had unconsciously drifted to her throat, only to find that the necklace was missing. "Where's it gone?"

Spike got back to his feet. "I don't know," He said, offering her a hand up which she took gratefully. "But good riddance to it. If it was an assassination attempt it wasn't exactly the deadliest I've ever seen, but it's still bloody annoying. My dinner will be all congealed by the time we get home."

Buffy wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Stop complaining. You won't be the one washing the damn thing up."

Spike chuckled and made to pull Buffy into a hug when a voice behind them startled both of them.

"Well," Angel said, leaning casually against one of the ramshackle crypts. "Just what are you two doing?"

"Angel," Buffy smiled, confused to see him there but happy nonetheless. She quickly tried to remember if Willow or Tara or anyone else had mentioned that he would be visiting, but recalled nothing. Then again, Angel wasn't exactly one for announcing when he was going to drop by. He much preferred to slip in and out of town unnoticed in that dreadfully mysterious and cryptic way that he loved so much. "What are you doing here? You didn't tell us you were coming."

She began to move towards him but Spike's sudden iron grip on her arm forced her to stop. "What's the matter?" She whispered, turning towards him.

"Don't." He said, his voice quiet but firm.

"Wh-"

"He's lost it again," He interrupted. "His soul. I can smell the demon."

Buffy whipped around to face Angel. "Is this true?" She asked, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. "Have you lost your soul?"

Angelus grinned at her devilishly. "You should know, lover."

She rolled her eyes, already hardening her heart against him, preparing herself to fight and kill him if she couldn't get to Willow and ask her to perform the restoration spell before he became a real danger. "Alright, who did you get groiny with this time?"

Angelus's eyes became wide with mock hurt. "Just you, lover."

"Hey," Spike snarled. "Only I get groiny with Buffy."

All amusement left Angelus's face in an instant. His eyes narrowed and when he spoke his voice was deadly. "I don't know what you're up to, roller boy, but that better have been a joke."

"I'm not – Wait," Spike broke off, even more confused than he had been a moment before. "What did you just call me?"

"Roller boy." Angelus said loudly and slowly, as if he were talking to a child. "Speaking of which, why aren't you in the chair?"

"Is he talking about what I think he's talking about?" Buffy asked Spike, but Spike ignored her and focussed on Angelus.

"I got out of that years ago." He said.

"I'm sick of these games, child." Angelus growled. "You were in the chair when I left the factory less than an hour ago. Unless you've developed divine powers of healing, you've been keeping secrets from us."

Buffy staggered a few steps backwards and perched herself on top of a headstone, not trusting her legs to hold her up. "God," She muttered, burying her face in her hands. "Tell me this isn't happening."

Spike gave her a grim smile. "I guess whoever sent that necklace isn't as stupid as we thought."


	3. Chapter 3

"As fun as this is," Angelus drawled. "I'm getting very bored. I think it's time we livened things up, don't you lover? And you," He turned his gaze briefly on Spike before returning to Buffy. "I'll deal with later."

Angelus lunged forwards, swinging his fist towards Buffy's face. Spike moved to help Buffy but she didn't need it. She grabbed Angelus's large fist in her own small hand and twisted it sharply. Even though Spike detested his grandsire, he couldn't help but feel a small amount of pity for him as he heard the dull crack that meant a bone had snapped. Angelus fell to his knees, howling in pain and shock, cradling his broken wrist.

Buffy acted fast; Angelus might be incapacitated for the moment but a little thing like a broken bone wouldn't keep him down for long. She scanned the ground for something she could use, something heavy and blunt. Not too far away from where she stood there was a fallen branch that looked like it would do the trick. Picking it up, she hurried back to Angelus and swung it down in a large arc. It connected with his head with a sickening thud. Angelus slumped to the side, his eyes closing and a snarl dying on his lips. Buffy dropped the branch, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Nice one," Spike said appreciatively. He retrieved the discarded branch and broke it in two over his knee, creating a rather jagged and primitive, but no doubt effective, stake. "Are we staking him now?"

"No!" Buffy all but shouted. "No," She said again, although much quieter this time in response to Spike's raised eyebrows. "If all this isn't some insane dream, if this really is," Here she winced slightly, not quite able to believe what she was about to say. "The past, then we can't just go around changing things. It could mess up the present," She frowned. "Or is it the future? Either way it's bad. Haven't you ever seen _Back to the Future_?"

Spike stared at her blankly.

"Oh for God's sake, Spike!" She cried. "You haven't even seen that? I'm adding it to the list!"

"Buff," Spike said patiently. "I think we have bigger things to worry about at the moment. The main one being that we seem to have been thrown back in time a few years."

"Right. Sorry."

"So if we're not going to make him into a big pile of dust, what are we going to do with him? We can't let him go back to the factory; he'll kill past me, which won't bode well for present me at all."

Buffy stared down at Angelus's prone form in silence, a small frown creasing her brow. Eventually she looked away from him and turned to Spike. "Know where we can get any chains?"

* * *

When Angelus woke, for a moment he had no idea where he was. The last thing he remembered was fighting with the Slayer in the cemetery, and now he was inside somewhere, although where he didn't know. However, it wasn't long before he recognised his surroundings as his old apartment, the hole his alter ego used to hide in. 

Discovering where he was did nothing to diminish his confusion. Somehow he'd lost several hours out of the night. When he left the factory it had been shortly before midnight; now the familiar warning shivers that ran up and down his spine told him that dawn was fast approaching.

It was when he tried to stand that he discovered the chains attached to him that firmly secured him to the wall. Staring down at them incredulously, he tried to recall how this had happened. The memories of his fight with Buffy trickled back slowly. When he remembered seeing something large flying towards his face, he let out a furious growl and jerked against his chains. The manacle dug into his broken wrist, causing him to yelp in pain.

"He's awake!" Spike called, not bothering to look up from the book he was idly flicking through. He was draped over one of the armchairs, his back to Angelus.

"Spike," Angelus snarled. "Let me out."

Spike ignored him and turned another page of his book.

"Spike," Angelus said again. "If you don't let me out now I swear I'll kill you."

"Right. How do you plan on doing that?" Spike called over his shoulder. "Being all tied up is going to make murdering me pretty difficult."

Angelus was about to let loose a stream of threats but at that moment a distraction arrived in the form of Buffy. She emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed and towelling her hair.

"Feel better, love?" Spike asked, setting his book aside.

"Much. I needed to get the cemetery out of my hair," Buffy grinned. "How's grouchy boy?"

"As much of a wanker as ever."

"Let me out," Angelus growled at Buffy this time "Or I'll-"

"Or you'll what?" Buffy interrupted. "Kill me? I doubt it'd matter. I don't seem to stay dead for very long."

"This time no one will be here to – Wait," Angelus broke off, frowning suddenly. "You look different. Your hair, it's longer."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Points for observation." Ignoring Angelus, she made her way over to Spike and held her hand out to him. He took it and she gently pulled him to his feet. "Come on," She murmured, hoping that Angelus wouldn't be able to hear her. "We need to talk in private." She steered him towards the bathroom, the only room with a door and so the only place they could hope to get something resembling privacy.

As Buffy and Spike touched, Angelus lost all coherency and lapsed into a series of low growls. At the cemetery he'd assumed that Spike had been making a joke, albeit an unfunny one, about him being the only one to "get groiny" with Buffy. Now, watching their closeness, as well as the fact that when Buffy got close enough he could smell Spike's scent on her, he was forced to the conclusion that Spike hadn't been kidding. After a little light torture, he would have been prepared to forgive his unruly grandchilde for lying and locking him up and would have been gracious enough to let him keep his pathetic unlife. But this was the signature on his death warrant. Spike had touched _his _woman, _his _Slayer, and for that he would pay.

Listening to Angelus's fury, Spike grinned to himself. He slipped his arm around Buffy's waist as they walked and pulled her close to him, causing Angelus's growls to grow in volume and intensity. Buffy shook her head but didn't say anything. She didn't think it was the best idea to piss off a captive vampire, but they had bigger things than Angelus to worry about. Besides, after the torment she had put Spike through when he had first come to them for help after getting his chip she could hardly scold him for doing the same thing.

They reached the bathroom and Spike shut the door firmly behind them, muffling Angelus. "So," He said, turning to Buffy. "What's the plan?"

* * *

In present day Sunnydale, someone rummaged through Spike's crypt. It was originally their intention to find something that could be used to bring him back, but they knew it was pointless. Now throwing his possessions around was just making them feel better. 

"This wasn't supposed to happen," They snapped. "Not like this. He wasn't supposed to go with her. She was supposed to go alone!"

"Maybe," Their companion ventured. "It'll work out alright. His presence can't affect things that much."

"Are you kidding?" The other said. "This changes everything. The whole plan, everything, is ruined."

* * *

_**Firstly, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I didn't expect the response the first two chapters got, but I'm very grateful for your views and encouragement. Secondly, updates are going to be much slower until at least the 20**__**th**__** due to an excessive amount of exams. **_


	4. Chapter 4

Drusilla's lower lip trembled as she gazed pleadingly at Spike. Spike turned his wheelchair away from her, doing his best to ignore her. Normally he wouldn't deny his Drusilla anything, but this was different. He knew without being told what she wanted, and he wouldn't help her get it.

"Spike…" She began, her voice soft and sweet as it always was when she wanted something.

"No." Spike said shortly, still refusing to look at her.

"But-"

Spike spun around to face her. "He'll be fine, Dru. Angel can handle himself."

The trembling of her lip resumed and sparkling tears filled her enormous eyes. "But it's almost sunrise and he never stays away in the daytime. He likes to make sure I'm tucked in properly."

Spike gripped the arms of his chair so hard that the metal almost crumpled beneath his fingers. If Drusilla could have said anything to harden his resolve not to go searching for his poncy, Slayer whipped grand sire, it was that. Turning away from her again, he began to wheel towards his bedroom.

"Spike!" Drusilla wailed, hurrying after him. "You have to find my daddy!"

A muscle in his jaw twitched at the sound of Drusilla's pet name for Angelus. "Dru," He said as patiently as he could, although through gritted teeth. "The sun is almost up. Eat something and then go to bed," He gestured behind him to the door that led to the room where the fledglings slept. "One of them should have brought back something tasty."

Drusilla's eyes narrowed. "I can't eat or sleep. Not while I'm worried about my daddy."

Spike stopped and sighed. This was always how it was with Drusilla. If she couldn't get her own way she would threaten to starve herself, and would refuse to devour even the most delicious of humans until Spike delivered what she wanted. This tactic had held more sway with Spike when she was in her weakened state, but the thought of her suffering was still abhorrent to him. A tiny part of him was thrilled at the prospect of her being in pain, so perhaps she could know a fraction of the nightly agony she caused him when she slipped away with Angelus into their bedroom. But mostly he just wanted her to be happy, and would do almost anything to achieve that.

"Fine," Spike growled. "I'll find him. But," He added quickly as Drusilla squealed in delight. "I'm not looking for him until tonight. It's too late to start now, the sun is already up."

"Thank you, my sweet." Drusilla murmured, pressing a kiss against his forehead. He leaned forward to try and grab her and pull her to him, but she stepped back quickly, easily avoiding his grasp. In an instant, she had crossed the room and disappeared into the bedroom she shared with Angelus. Spike winced as he heard the lock scrape into place.

Grumbling to himself, he headed to his own bedroom. He sent out a silent plea to whatever kind of deity would answer his prayers, begging that Angelus should meet the nasty end of the Slayer's stake or receive a deadly suntan before he could find him.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this alone? If you wait until tonight I can come with you." 

"I'll be fine, Spike." Buffy said as she rummaged through Angel's sparse possessions, looking for something she could use as a jacket. "I'm only going to see Giles. It's probably better I go alone anyway. Can you imagine the reaction if I brought you along?"

A very uncomfortable night had passed in Angel's apartment. After locking themselves in the bathroom for an hour they had finally come up with a brilliant plan: ask Giles to fix it. Neither of them knew anything about time travel whereas Giles, who knew pretty much everything, would probably be able to at least guess at what had happened to them and help them get back.

They'd decided to get some sleep and then find Giles in the morning, when there would be less chance of Buffy running into her younger self as she'd be in classes. However, getting a good night's sleep is easier said than done when there's a furious vampire chained only feet from the bed. Angelus had kept up an almost constant stream of threats, insults and feral growls until dawn. Spike hadn't helped matters by insisting on keeping an arm around Buffy and holding her close at all times, enraging Angelus even more.

Spike shrugged out of his red shirt and held it out to Buffy. She smiled and accepted it gratefully, pulling it on over her black tee shirt. It was far too large for her and it would do little to keep her warm, but she was happy to wear it anyway. Both the scent and the feel of it reminded her of Spike; even if he couldn't be with her in the flesh today, she was glad of a comforting memento of him.

"As long as you're sure…" Spike didn't look convinced. He stared at Buffy as she prepared to leave, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"I am." She replied firmly.

He shrugged, a reluctant acceptance that he wouldn't be able to change her mind if she'd already made it up. Buffy felt no small amount of relief when he dropped the issue. Although she knew that bringing him along would only have complicated things, if he'd continued insisting on accompanying her she probably would have relented and allowed him to.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she rose up onto her tiptoes and leaned in to kiss him. A growl of rage made her jump, breaking the two apart. Angelus had woken from his brief sleep and was once again yanking on his chains, trying desperately to break free to get to Spike.

Spike let out a growl of his own, but it was one of frustration rather than anger. Turning his back on Angelus, be pulled Buffy back to him. Raging vampire or no, he was going to spend most of the day away from Buffy and he wouldn't be deprived of the little time he did have with her. He captured her lips with his, trying as he always did when they kissed to retain her taste and the sensation of her lips against his in his memory. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer, deepening the kiss. He tangled his hands in the long hair which he loved so much, wrapping her silky tresses around his fingers.

Throughout their heated goodbye Angelus remained ominously silent.

Buffy was the one who reluctantly broke the kiss. As she drew away, Spike resisted the strong temptation he had to gather her in his arms again. She had work to do and it couldn't be put off any longer.

"I'll be back in a few hours," She murmured. "And hopefully I'll have some answers."

Wordlessly, she made her way over to the door and, with only a brief wave of goodbye, left the apartment and walked out into the day. Spike stared after her, misgivings about letting her go alone already clamouring in his mind. It was only Angelus's gentle chuckling that pulled him out of his anxious thoughts.

"What?" He snarled, turning to face the chained vampire.

Angelus wore an almost unbearable smirk. He shrugged casually. "I get it now."

"Get what?" Spike said warily, knowing that he wouldn't like whatever Angelus had to say but unable to stop himself asking anyway.

"Why she let's you touch her," Angelus's smirk grew at Spike's low warning growl. "I don't know why I didn't see it before. She's still pining for me, and a mortal man could never take my place. Not that I'm suggesting that you could ever come close to me," He reassured. "But at least when another vampire has his hands all over her, she can close her eyes and pretend it's me."

Spike said nothing, although his anger was clear. His fists clenched and unclenched at his side, longing to lash out and punch Angelus.

Angelus laughed to see his anger. "What's the matter, Spike? Won't she let you hurt me?"

Silently, Spike crossed the room and stood in front of Angelus, who looked up at him without a trace of fear in his laughing his eyes. Spike raised his leg and brought down his booted foot hard on Angelus's broken wrist. A smile of grim satisfaction spread over Spike's lips as screams of agony filled the room.

"That enough hurt for you, mate?" He asked before turning his back on Angelus, determined to ignore him until Buffy returned.

* * *

Buffy peered through the small window in the library door. The only person she could see was Giles, who was much as she remembered him from her high school years; sitting at the table surrounded by books, sipping a cup of tea. She'd been standing outside watching for almost twenty minutes, wanting to make sure that there was no one lurking behind the stacks before she went inside. She was now torn between entering and hanging around for a few minutes longer to be certain that she and Giles would be alone. The piercing bell that indicated the start of second period made up her mind for her. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and strode inside. 

"Giles," She called softly.

Even from a distance she could see the small frown that formed on his face. "Buffy," He said, without even looking up. "You should be in class."

"But-"

"I know that you don't see the point of a Slayer attending her lessons, but it really is essential."

"Giles!" She said again, this time more forcefully.

Giles looked up and his mouth opened in amazement. The book he was reading fell from his hand. Buffy felt a small wave of relief that Giles had noticed the difference in her much faster than Angelus had. It would make explaining her predicament and getting him to believe it far easier.

"Buffy?" He said, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

It took Buffy only a few moments to realise that he wasn't talking to her. He was staring over her shoulder, looking at something behind her. She spun around and came face to face with her seventeen year old self.

* * *

_**Sorry about the enormous delay. There will be another delay of a week because I'm disappearing on holiday tomorrow. But after that updates will be much more regular. Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed! **_


	5. Chapter 5

There was only a moment's pause before younger Buffy dropped into a defensive stance. The older Buffy resisted the temptation to do the same; raising her fists would only make her other self more likely to attack.

"Giles," The younger Buffy said, her eyes firmly fixed on her doppelganger's face. "What's going on?"

"I haven't a clue." Giles rose from his seat and approached the two Slayers, ignoring the warning look the younger Buffy shot him that clearly told him to stay back.

"I can explain everything." Buffy said, trying to sound as calm as possible.

"Start talking." Younger Buffy ordered, scepticism clear in her voice.

"I'm… well, I'm you. A few years from now." Buffy groaned inwardly at how stupid that sounded.

"Right," Younger Buffy raised an eyebrow. "I'm supposed to believe that why?"

"How else do you explain it?"

Without lowering her clenched fists, younger Buffy shrugged. "Demon with a facelift? Though I can't say you did a good job. I see a wrinkle or two that I definitely don't have."

"You-"

Giles sprang forwards and placed himself between the two Buffys before they could do each other any damage. "Hold on a second, Buffy. Er..." He hesitated before pointing at the younger Buffy. "This Buffy. She could be telling the truth."

Younger Buffy rolled her eyes. "Unlikely."

"Well we'll see." He turned to Buffy. "Can you tell us anything, give us any proof, that will prove your story?"

"Cruciamentum!" Buffy blurted, seizing on the first thing that popped into her mind that might serve as evidence. The younger Buffy frowned, clearly confused, but Giles's eyes widened.

"How do you…?" He gasped.

"Because I've been through it," She said grimly. "How would I know about it unless I'd survived it?

Still looking unconvinced, younger Buffy said, "Whatever that crucia - thing is, you could have found out about it anywhere."

Buffy turned her eyes to Giles. "It's not exactly advertised, is it?"

Giles nodded silently before addressing the younger Buffy. "I think she may be telling the truth."

"Because of the crucia-thing?"

"It's highly unlikely that she could have found out about it any other way than experiencing it."

"But what is-"

"I think," Buffy interrupted, noticing the panicked look on Giles's face. "That we have more important things to talk about."

"Indeed," Giles agreed, eager to steer the conversation away from the topic of the Cruciamentum before the younger Buffy could demand to know what it was. "But perhaps not now," He cast an anxious look at the library doors and the throngs of students that were milling past outside. "If someone should walk in… Could you come back later? Tonight?"

Buffy nodded. "I can wait until then. It'll be much better for me if it's dark."

"Why?" Younger Buffy asked, finally allowing her fists to drop.

_This isn't going to go down well, _Buffy thought as she took a deep breath. "Well, I didn't come here alone…"

* * *

The door to Angel's apartment swung open and Buffy lurched inside. The coppery tang of blood hit Spike's nostrils immediately. Despite the watery sunlight that streamed in through the open door, he sprang up and hurried over to Buffy. On hearing his footsteps, Buffy kicked the door shut behind her, plunging the room back into its former gloom. He reached her in only a few seconds and slid his fingers underneath her chin, tilting her face up towards his gaze. He winced as his eyes fell on the oozing cut on her lower lip. 

"It didn't go well then?"

Buffy smiled weakly and shook her head. "No."

"Didn't they believe you?"

"They did… Well, not at first, but that wasn't much of a problem in the end."

Spike frowned. "Then why the split lip?"

"She – the other me – wasn't too happy when I told her I'm shacking up with her mortal enemy."

"Ah." Spike slipped an arm around her waist and led her over to an armchair. "How did the Watcher take it?" He flopped down into the chair and pulled Buffy onto his lap. She rested her head against his shoulder gratefully and allowed her tired eyes to flicker shut.

"Not brilliantly but better than she did. At least he tried to stop the fight; although he almost got a broken nose for his trouble."

Spike suppressed a chuckle at the image of the librarian jumping into the middle of a fight between two Slayers. "Did you find out anything useful?"

"No," Buffy's voice came muffled as she nuzzled into his neck. "Giles was worried about someone walking in and seeing two of me. We need to go back tonight."

"'We?'"

"Now they're over the shock I think it's safe for you to come. They're going to tell Xander and Will-"

Buffy broke off as a loud groan from the corner caught her attention. She twisted around on Spike's lap to get a better look at Angelus, who was only just waking from the blissful unconsciousness that the agony in his wrist sent him into. Buffy sighed. "I suppose I should go and fix up his arm."

Spike tightened his grip on her and pulled her close. "Do you have to?" He whispered, pressing a line of kisses up her neck. "I missed you this morning. I want you to myself for a while." Buffy began to relent and relax into Spike's hold, but another loud groan disturbed her.

"He won't shut up until I do." She smiled apologetically and brushed a kiss over his lips before hopping off his lap.

Spike sighed and pushed himself out of the chair, following Buffy across the room. "Anything I can do to help?"

"You can find something I can use as a splint," She said as she pulled open a cupboard and began to rummage inside. "Anything rigid."

"Will do." He called over his shoulder, already beginning his search of the apartment. He found little that could be used effectively, and eventually had to settle for ripping off the hard covers of a large, ancient looking tome. He returned to find Buffy sitting cross legged on the floor in front of Angelus, a shredded pile of what used to be a bed sheet next to her.

Angelus, only slowly coming around, looked at her blearily. "It's you." He mumbled.

"Yes," Buffy said impatiently. "It's me." She accepted the covers off Spike with a small smile and gestured for him to sit down next to her. He obeyed and tried to make himself comfortable on the hard floor. "Will you help me?" She asked.

Spike opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Angelus muttering "No."

Buffy looked at him quizzically. "No what?"

"No help."

"I didn't ask you."

"Stale. Dead. No help." Angelus murmured, his head lolling forwards onto his chest.

Buffy and Spike exchanged confused glances. "What was that about?" Buffy whispered.

"Haven't a clue, pet. What do you want help with?"

Buffy shot a final questioning look at Angelus before shrugging. "Could you hold the splints in place while I tie them?"

"Sure."

After Buffy had placed the boards correctly Spike held them still, resisting the strong urge to crush Angelus's wrist beneath his fingers. Buffy began to bind the boards to Angelus's arm with the remnants of the bed sheet, moving quickly but carefully. As Buffy leant closer, Angelus's head snapped up. When he spoke all of the drowsiness and confusion that had been in his voice only moments before was gone.

"Blood." He growled, his eyes glued on Buffy's bottom lip. Spike responded with a warning growl of his own.

"We're almost done here," Buffy reassured him, placing a restraining hand on his arm. "Only a few more seconds." She finished tying the fabric into a strong knot and rose to her feet, pulling Spike up with her. They ignored Angelus's demands to be fed as they headed back to the chair, but when they were out of his range of hearing Buffy murmured, "We do need to get some blood. He's not the only one who needs to eat."

Spike shook his head. "It's not me I'm worried about. Have you eaten since yesterday?"

"No. Angel wasn't really big on food. He used to keep a few snacks in for me, but I've already checked and there's nothing."

"Do you want to go and get something? I don't mind vamp sitting again."

Buffy pulled a face. "I'd rather spend the next few hours sleeping if we're spending the whole night with the gang."

"Sounds like a plan, kitten." Spike said, entwining his fingers with hers and leading her over to the bed.

* * *

Several hours later, Buffy and Spike stood in front of Sunnydale High. It felt strange to Buffy, seeing the old school again. It hadn't really registered with her earlier on in the day; she'd been too nervous about talking to Giles on the way in and then too occupied with her split lip on the way out. 

"You ready?" Spike asked quietly, giving Buffy's hand a gentle squeeze. Without saying anything, Buffy nodded and then made her way to the entrance.

* * *

Spike growled in frustration as he attempted to maneuver his chair down a flight of stairs. The search for his sire wasn't going well at all. He'd scoured the whole of Sunnydale, checking every demon hot spot in town as well as some less obvious places. There were only two places he hadn't checked: the Slayer's house and the hole Angel had lived in when he'd had a soul. He was reluctant to visit Buffy's house because he was hardly in a state to fight her and he had no intention of ending the night as a pile of dust. He didn't want to visit the old apartment because he thought the whole trip would be pointless; Angelus hated anything that reminded him of his days when he was burdened with a soul, including his former residence. 

He headed back to the factory, hoping desperately that Drusilla wouldn't send him out again when he came home empty handed.


	6. Chapter 6

"_Another _vampire?" Xander fumed. "Another one? Did you not learn your lesson the first time?" He demanded, rounding on his friend, who was slouched in one of the library's hard chairs. The younger Buffy had just opened her mouth to defend herself, to ask Xander how she could possibly know how she and the vampire who had tried to kill her countless times had become an item, when the doors swung open. She closed her mouth and pressed her lips together tightly as she watched her older self and Spike hesitantly enter the room.

Xander, who hadn't heard the doors open and didn't realise that their visitors had arrived, continued to rant.

"Spike doesn't even have a soul! I mean, let's not pretend I ever liked or trusted Dead Boy, but at least he had a soul. The only thing that's stopping future Spike killing us is some stupid chip in the head." Once again he turned on younger Buffy. "What were you thinking?"

Younger Buffy sat back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. She had been about to warn him to keep his mouth shut but all of a sudden she was feeling much less sympathetic.

"And what about her?" Xander continued, not waiting for an answer. "The other Buffy. How do we know she's not a vampire if she's sleeping with one?" Younger Buffy clenched her jaw and then, despite herself, had to bite back a smile when she saw her other self do the same.

"How do we know," Xander ploughed on. "That he hasn't turned her? How do we know she's not here to kill us?"

Giles and Willow emerged from behind one of the many bookcases, each carrying an enormous pile of books in their arms. Willow caught sight of the older Buffy and almost dropped her books. Giles nodded briefly in greeting and raised his voice slightly to say, "Hello Buffy."

Xander frowned. "Why are you saying hi to Buffy? She's been here for..." His eyes widened as he trailed off. "She's here, isn't she?"

Everyone nodded.

"How angry does she look?"

"Do you remember that time you accidentally pulled Mr Gordo's ear off?" Willow piped up.

Xander paled.

Buffy moved forwards to take a chair, pulling Spike along behind her. "I came here earlier in the sunlight, but you can feel my pulse if you really want to Xander." She said as she flopped down into a chair.

For a long moment Xander said nothing. His eyes flicked between the two Buffys, seemingly unable to comprehend what he was seeing. When he continued to stare at the Slayers and maintain his silence, Spike rolled his eyes and growled. "I know this is your best wet dream come true but try and say something."

Xander turned his glare on Spike, his cheeks flaming. Buffy braced herself for the tirade she knew was about to come, but at that moment Giles hurried to the table and dumped his armload of books down. "I think we should begin now." He said, his eyes on Xander.

"But-"

"You can yell at Spike later. For the moment we have work to do."

Xander flung himself down into a chair, looking deeply unhappy but holding his silence. Giles nodded in satisfaction and accepted more books off Willow before perching himself on the edge of the table. Willow took a seat next to the younger Buffy, still looking in amazement at her counterpart across the table. She was so engrossed in staring at her that when Giles started to speak she jumped a little before turning her attention to him, looking flustered.

"Firstly, we must keep this as secret as possible. That means we can't tell Cordelia or Oz." He looked first at Xander and then at Willow.

Xander scowled. "Why not? They're both part of the gang now."

"This is different from anything else we've encountered. A wrong word could put our futures or," He said, looking at Buffy and Spike. "Your present in jeopardy. If Buffy and Spike happen to let something slip, some major detail about the years to come, it could alter the future."

"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing." Buffy murmured.

Giles fixed her with a stern glare. "No, Buffy. You can't tell us anything we're not supposed to know."

"What if it saved lives?"

In the silence that followed, tension crackled in the air. Xander and Willow exchanged worried looks, both wondering if the lost lives referred to were theirs. Younger Buffy stared at the floor, her jaw clenched. No amount of information from the future could bring back what she had lost. Giles looked shaken but after a few moments he found his voice again. "No," He repeated, although this time his voice was less stern and more gentle. "Altering events, even tragedies, may appear to be good, but we don't know the kind of repercussion your actions may have. The negative consequences could be enormous. That's why none of us call tell Cordelia and Oz; we need to limit the chances of Buffy or Spike saying something they may later regret."

After the speech, Giles cleared his throat, eager to move the conversation to less morbid areas. He turned to Buffy and Spike. "Now, you two aren't going to help in the research-"

There was an instant uproar from the other three. "What?" Xander cried. "How come they get out of it?"

Giles sighed irritably. "Have you not listened to what I just said? Although it's night, I still don't feel comfortable with them being here. For all we know someone could walk in, and would you care to be the one to explain to them how Buffy has suddenly gained a twin?"

When no one answered, Giles turned back to Spike and Buffy. "As I was saying, you two won't be helping in the research but I do need some information from you. How exactly did you come to be here?"

"You know this better than I do, love." Spike said, unable to contain the grin caused by the annoyance on Xander's face when he called Buffy "love".

"I don't know much more," Buffy said. "You only missed the beginning." She turned her eyes to Giles. "There was a necklace."

"A necklace?"

"Yeah. I don't know where it came from, it was just lying on the kitchen table. I got it out of the box and I felt like I had to put it on."

"That's when I showed up," Spike interjected. "I called to her but it was like she couldn't hear me."

"Then what?" Giles asked.

Buffy frowned. "I don't really remember much after that. Spike, could you?"

"'Course. I grabbed her but she still didn't pay any attention to me. When she put the necklace on everything in the kitchen exploded."

"I came around a bit after that," Buffy said slowly. "I thought everything was back to normal, but then everything went dark and we woke up in the cemetery here, in this time."

"Extraordinary," Giles murmured, sorting through the pile of books to find the one he wanted. "What did this necklace look like?"

"It had an enormous gem. It kept changing colour. It was…" She trailed off, struggling to remember. "Blue. At first. Then when I picked it up it changed to purple. A few seconds after that it changed again."

Spike leaned over the side of his chair and murmured something in Buffy's ear. Buffy nodded. "By the way, you might want to talk to Ms Calendar about some sort of memory spell."

The tension was back in the air again. Everyone looked at younger Buffy, whose fists were suddenly tightly clenched in her lap.

"What did I say?" Buffy asked.

"We can do fine without Ms Calendar." Younger Buffy replied quietly.

Buffy silently cursed her stupidity. Her anger with Jenny Calendar was a distant memory. She'd forgiven her long ago, before her death at the hands of Angelus, and now only remembered her as trying to help.

Giles lowered his eyes, suddenly far more intent on his book. "I'm sure as long as you're careful about what you say none of us should need a memory spell."

"It's not for you. It's for Angel."

"Angel?" Younger Buffy asked, now more interested in what her older self had to say than she had been all night.

"Yeah." Buffy grimaced. "We had to… tie him up. A little bit. It's probably best if he doesn't remember any of it."

"I'll look into it," Giles reassured her. "Why did you have to tie him up?"

"We ran into him almost as soon as we got here," Buffy said. "I was about to talk to him but Spike said he smelled different. I thought he'd lost his soul again so I-"

"Wait!" Younger Buffy burst out, sitting straight up in her seat. "Lost his soul again? _Again? _Does that mean he gets it back?"

Giles buried his face in his hands and Spike groaned. When Buffy realised her mistake she sighed. "Stupid Buffy." She whispered to herself.

* * *

Spike muttered under his breath as he managed to negotiate the final step of the flight of stairs that led down to Angel's apartment. Drusilla had been less than happy when he'd returned without her daddy in tow. She hadn't shouted at him but screeched as she'd stormed around the room flinging her precious dolls at the walls. She'd even torn the throat out of one unfortunate fledgling who had just happened to be standing nearby. 

The raving and smashing everything up Spike could cope with. He'd watched calmly as Drusilla had systematically destroyed everything that lay in her path, not feeling moved in the slightest to go back out and hunt for Angel. But once it was over, once she had screamed herself hoarse, she'd crouched on the floor, cradled the remains of one of the broken dolls to her chest and began to sob. The tears did the trick every time. Watching her, Spike felt his long still heart twist violently in his chest and, despite his former resolve, he knew he had to do whatever he could to make his princess smile again.

Which was why he was once again scouring Sunnydale, determined to bring home the demon who made his nights a living – in a manner of speaking – hell. There were only two places left for him to look, and he was definitely not paying a visit to the Slayer's house. If the girl had peaches chained up in there then there was little he could do to help him, and nothing, not even Drusilla's tears, would move him to try. That left his grandsire's old apartment. He didn't have much hope that he would find him there, but if he couldn't bring him back then he wanted to be able to tell Dru that he tried everything.

Spike came to a halt in front of the door and reached his hand out to it. He pulled the handle down and gave the door a gentle push. It swung open easily, allowing him access to the apartment. Although he knew that the place was going to be deserted, he still entered the dark room cautiously. "Angel?" He called into the gloom. "Are you here, peaches?" He waited a few moments for a reply, not really expecting one. When nothing broke the silence he turned to leave, wondering idly if he should pay another visit to Willy to try to scare some useful information out of him.

Just as he was heading through the doorway, something reached his ears. A low groan, so soft that no human would have been able to hear it, but it made Spike jump in his chair as if a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over him. "Angel?" He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He hastily backed up into the room again and began running a hand over the walls, searching for a light switch. After a few seconds of fumbling he found it and flipped it on.

As light flooded the room, illuminating his grandsire, he couldn't understand how he hadn't sensed him before. He was chained up only a few feet away, his head resting against the wall, his eyes shut. As Spike approached, his eyes flew open. "You're back, are you?" He grumbled. "Where is she? Still with her pathetic friends?"

Spike frowned. "What are you on about? I haven't already been here. And why are you tied up?"

Angelus rolled his eyes. "What's the matter, Spike? Scared all of a sudden? Feeling like the traitor you are? Well you can play dumb all you like, I'm still ripping your worthless head off your shoulders as soon as I'm free."

"Now, is that any way to talk to your rescuer?"

"Rescuer?" Angelus growled. "You-" He broke off suddenly, looking at Spike properly for the first time. "Why are you back in the chair?"

"Back in it? I haven't been out of it since your girlfriend dropped a sodding organ on me!"

Angelus closed his eyes and let out a groan of frustration. He wasn't sure what type of annoying game Spike was playing, but he preferred it when he was stomping on his arm. When he opened them again, they widened in shock. "Spike!" He began to call out a warning, but it was too late. Spike didn't even have time to turn. He felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and then everything was dark.

Buffy let the small marble statue in her hands fall to the ground. Spike looked down at his other self, a weary expression on his face. Angelus looked in amazement from the Spike slumped in the wheelchair to the Spike standing at Buffy's side. As he looked, a slow smile curved his lips. "I get it."

* * *

**AN: **Again, thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I really appreciate your opinions and encouragement. I'd like to clarify when this story is set. Buffy and Spike have travelled back to about the time when "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" is set. They've come from season six, from around the time when "Once More With Feeling" and "Tabula Rasa" are set. However, my season six deviates from cannon. Aside from the obvious (Spike and Buffy having a real relationship), Buffy, because of Spike's encouragement, tells her friends about being in heaven before OMWF and as a consequence Willow doesn't perform the memory spell in "Tabula Rasa". 


	7. Chapter 7

"You don't get anything," Buffy spat at Angelus before turning to Spike. "We need chains. Now."

"I'm on it," Spike replied, pressing the bag of food and blood he was holding into Buffy's arms. "I won't be long." He ran to the door and disappeared through it, pulling it shut with a loud bang.

Buffy glanced down at the other Spike and anxiously bit her lip, wincing when she snagged the cut. Not knowing what else to do, she placed the bag on the floor and then hovered over Spike. Without anything to restrain him with, the best she could hope for was to knock him out again if he came around.

Angelus chuckled. "I have to hand it to you, lover, I'm impressed. I never thought you'd see the end of the year with me around. I'm assuming that you're a few years older than seventeen – it's just that you're looking a little worse for wear."

"Shut up!" Buffy snarled, turning her back firmly on him.

"How did you end up with roller boy, anyway?" He leered at her. "Missing me, were you lover? I have to say he's a pretty poor substitute, but when the only other man – and I use that term loosely – on offer is Xander, I can see why you chose Spike."

Buffy chose not to answer and instead clenched her jaw.

Angelus changed his tone from mocking to musing, almost as if he were thinking to himself. "How did you even do this? Time travel is rare, but it still happens. But for someone like you…" He trailed off and gave a snicker. "No offence, Buff, but you're not exactly the sharpest pencil in the box."

Buffy was contemplating finding something to gag Angelus with when Spike hurried back into the apartment, chains in hand. The relief practically radiated off Buffy in waves. She closed her eyes and smiled. "Have I ever told you how wonderful you are?"

Angelus's features contorted in disgust but Spike grinned. "Once or twice," He said, heading over to where his other self still lay prone in the chair. "But I never get tired of hearing it."

Buffy nodded towards the unconscious Spike. "Can you handle him while I deal with the blood?"

"'Course, kitten. Hop to it."

Angelus, whose ears had pricked at the mention of blood, cleared his throat. "Did I hear right? Blood?"

"Yes, Angel, but you're only getting dinner if you're a good boy, meaning you have to shut up for the rest of the night."

He eyed her suspiciously. "What kind of blood?"

"Pig."

He snorted. "Why do you think you can keep my mouth shut with that God awful crap?"

"Because," Buffy replied sweetly. "I'll mix some of my own in with it."

Spike growled and almost dropped the chains. His demon surfaced before he realised it, the familiar ridges and bumps forming on his forehead. Buffy spun around to face him and gave him a warning look that clearly ordered him to keep his silence. Once she was satisfied that he wouldn't say anything she turned back to Angelus.

He was already enticed by the thought of Slayer blood, and Spike's jealousy would make it all the sweeter. His glance slipped to Buffy's neck. "I'd rather have it from the source," He murmured, earning him a warning growl from Spike. "But alright."

Buffy smiled in satisfaction and went to prepare the blood. Angelus thought she made rather a show of it, probably to drive him insane with his craving. Once the mug of heated blood was removed from the microwave, Buffy grabbed a knife from the drawer and settled herself in front of Angelus. She drew the knife across the palm of her hand in one sharp movement, creating a shallow cut. Glittering beads of blood welled to the surface. She tilted her hand and allowed the sanguine fluid to run down her slender fingers, then waggled her fingertips gently so that the drops fell into the cup.

Once enough of her own blood had been mixed with the pig's, she held the mug up to Angelus's lips, allowing him to drink. Spike kept his back turned and tried to ignore what was happening, but Angelus was being indecently loud, smacking his lips and slurping the blood. He kept his jealousy in check, reminding himself that the experience would be much worse for Buffy.

By the time he had finished chaining his other self up, Angelus had finished his meal and was fast asleep. Buffy watched him with a smug grin on her face. "What do you know," She said, winking at Spike. "That stuff Willy gave us actually worked. Looks like I won't have to beat him up after all."

Both of them had been dubious about the grey powder the seedy bar owner had sold them, but he had assured them that it would put a vampire to sleep for at least a few hours. Now it seemed that he had been telling the truth.

Spike gave Buffy a hand back to her feet. "Why did you give him your blood?" He murmured.

"I wanted to make sure he didn't taste that stuff and spit it out. I figured my blood would mask it better than pig's." Seeing the jealous look still in Spike's eyes, she gently entwined the fingers of her uninjured hand with his. "Come on," She said, pulling him to the kitchen. "We need to eat and get a couple of hours of sleep before we have to deal with him again."

* * *

Several hours later, Spike lay silently next to the sleeping Buffy, wide eyed in the darkness. Buffy's rest was fitful; she squirmed and murmured, occasionally uttering a sharp cry or lashing out. When Spike brushed her cheek with his fingertips, her skin was searing hot. She cowered from his touch, whimpering. 

He hated to see her like this. _Hated _it. But he knew from bitter experience that there was nothing he could do. As much as it broke his heart to watch her suffer, the nightmare had to run its course. In the early days, during the first few times they had shared a bed, he'd tried to wake her when the nightmares had come upon her. It hadn't taken him long to discover that it was impossible. He could shake her, shout at her, pick her up and her eyelids wouldn't open even a crack. Whatever he tried didn't help her at all, instead it only added to her terror.

Trying his best not to jolt her, Spike climbed off the bed and headed towards the bathroom. He found a cloth inside and, after a brief inspection, decided that it was clean. He turned on the tap and ran the material underneath the cold stream of water that gushed out. Wringing the excess water out, he made his way back to bed, making sure not to bump into either Angelus or his other self as he went. He silently gave thanks to whatever deity or demon was listening that the first was asleep and the other was still, miraculously, unconscious from the blow to his head.

Kneeling next to the bed, he flicked a small lamp on. Buffy's brow creased and she shied away from the light, just as she had done from Spike. Before he'd left to get the cloth, Spike thought he'd smelled blood but couldn't be sure in the darkness, even with the benefit of vampiric sight. Now he saw that at some point in her sleep Buffy had bitten down on her lip, opening up the only recently healed cut. A small line of crimson had worked its way down her chin, standing out shockingly against the paleness of her skin.

Spike pushed back the tangled, sweat soaked hair from her forehead and gently dabbed at her with the cloth. This was the only thing that came close to calming her; she nuzzled into the damp material, craving its coolness against her burning flesh. After he had done his best to cool her down, he gently wiped the smear of blood off her chin, ignoring the almost irresistible urge to clean it with his tongue rather than the unworthy cloth.

_Just a little taste, _A voice inside his head whispered. _She won't care, she won't even know. _Spike snarled at the voice to shut up. It was true that he had tasted Buffy's blood before, but she had been very much in control of the situation. He refused to take it now when she was unconscious, unknowing. Besides, Slayer blood was like sweet nectar coursing through his veins. It made his skin tingle, his cheeks blush, his senses more receptive to every sensation the world had to offer him. If he tasted Buffy's blood now, even in a tiny quantity, he didn't know if he'd be able to stop himself from sinking his fangs into her neck to feel her life force sliding over his tongue.

He finished cleaning her face and hastily got to his feet, deciding that it would be best to move away from Buffy until he could compose himself. Discarding the cloth, he hurried over to the kitchen where he filled a glass with water in preparation for when she woke. No sooner had he turned off the tap than he heard a rustle of sheets. Looking over at the bed he saw Buffy propping herself up, blinking against the glare of the lamp.

"Buffy," He murmured, moving back over to her. He handed her the water and she smiled up at him sleepily, accepting the glass gratefully. He perched himself on the edge of the bed and peered into her tired face. "What was it this time?"

"The Master." She answered briefly after a moment of hesitation, giving a small shudder. Spike didn't press her for details; he knew that she had been drowned, murdered, by the vampire Master in the course of her final confrontation with him, only to be revived by Xander. This dreaming of old enemies, old battles and wounds, worried Spike. He wondered if she'd always had the nightmares or if they'd only started after she'd been brought back, but he couldn't ask her. The intense vulnerability he had witnessed as she slept only a few moments before was already disappearing, and her usual mask was slipping back into place. In a few seconds more she'd be joking or quipping, and only in Spike's ears would the confidence of her tone ring false.

He lay back down in his place on the bed and pulled her close to him. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pressed his face into the back of her neck and inhaled the unique scent of shampoo and the powerful blood that hummed just beneath her skin. He silently prayed that if she wouldn't confide in him, then she at least wouldn't erect the usual verbal barrier between them. For once someone or something was listening to him; Buffy relaxed into his embrace and let her head sink into the pillow.

As the sun rose, Spike fell asleep wondering what he was going to do about his Slayer.


End file.
